throat. He had chosen well, he knew. Betsy would be a good and loving wife. Standing, he raised her up. 'Let us go and tell your parents and my sisters of out happiness,' he said to her.
She nodded, and hand in hand they walked back to the house, where the dowager had already gathered together her grandson, Aurora, Calandra, the Bowens, and Isabelle in the drawing room in anticipation of the announcement to come. Mary Rose Hawkesworth was very pleased with herself. She had engineered George's introduction to Elizabeth Bowen quite well, and it had all turned out exactly as she had hoped. Now, despite her protestations to the contrary, she intended to have a hand in picking a husband for Aurora, but she would be very clever again so the girl would not know of her interference.
The drawing room door opened, and George and Betsy entered.
'We have something to tell you all,' George said with a wide smile, and he put his arm about Betsy, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind what his revelation was to be.
Chapter 7
Carriage after carriage pulled up the torchlit drive leading to Hawkes Hill Hall, stopping before the main entry to the house. Footmen raced forward to open the coach doors and draw down the steps. Gloved hands were offered to each vehicle's occupants, steadying them as they dismounted from their transport. Ball gowns were shaken free of wrinkles, real or imaginary. Hairdos were patted to assure perfection despite the ride from home to hall.
Within the front door of the house, in the large main hallway, servants hurried forth to take capes and cloaks. The guests ascended the wide main staircase of the house to where the Duke and Duchess of Farminster were awaiting them, along with the dowager, Aurora, and George. The visitors passed along the receiving line, and finally into the ballroom, gasping at the beauty of it. The crystal chandeliers sparkled. There were flowers everywhere in large stone urns. Usually a ballroom had its corners blocked by painted screens behind which were commodes, should the call of nature make a visit necessary.
'Not in my ballroom,' Calandra had declared. 'By evening's end the entire ballroom will stink to high heaven.'
'You must provide for your guests' comfort,' the dowager said.
'There are two large cloakrooms on either side of the ballroom,' Calandra said. 'I have thoroughly inspected them, and both are quite suitable. We shall use them as necessaries, one for the gentlemen and one for the ladies. We shall have lady's maids and footmen attending to our guests, and the ballroom shall remain free of noxious odors.'
'What an excellent idea!' the dowager approved. 'The cloaks and capes can be put in the main closet room in the front hall. Very good, my girl! Very good indeed! That's the kind of thinking we need from a Duchess of Farminster.'
And so it had been arranged. Footmen and maidservants were stationed about the ballroom at discreet intervals so those in dire need might inquire as to the location of the commodes. At one end of the ballroom a dais had been set up for the musicians, who were currently playing light music. The dancing would not begin until the duke and duchess had greeted their guests. It had been decided not to have a pre-ball dinner for specified guests. Only the family and the Bowens had eaten in the dining room that evening.
Calandra was on her absolute best behavior. She had never given a ball before, but she had closely observed the London hostesses who had, and envied them. Now she was the one giving the ball, and everyone was saying how beautiful everything had looked, and how elegant it all was. Well, of course these country people would be impressed by the simplicity of her arrangements, but if she were in London, it would have been so much better. A tiny wave of nausea swept over her, and she closed her eyes a moment. She should definitely not have eaten the prawns this evening.
'I believe all our guests have arrived, dear,' the duke said to her. 'It is time for us to open the ball.' Taking her by the arm, he led her into the ballroom.
'Let the vicar make his announcement first,' Calandra said. 'If he does not, there will be a great deal of tittle-tattle about the attention George is paying to Betsy.'
The duke nodded, agreeing with his wife, and spoke softly to Sir Ronald. Then in the company of the vicar they made their way to the dais. The conductor signaled to the guests with a flourish of music, and then the duke held up his hand.
'My friends, before we begin the dance, the vicar has a word or two to say to you all.'
Sir Ronald cleared his throat, and then without further ado said, 'Lady Elsie and I are most happy to announce the betrothal of our eldest daughter, Elizabeth, to Mr. George Spencer- Kimberly, elder brother of her grace, the Duchess of Farminster. The wedding will be celebrated in late October, as George must return to the Indies shortly thereafter. I hope you will be as pleased for the happy couple as my wife and I are.' He then bowed to the assembled audience and stepped down.
Almost immediately Betsy, George, and Lady Elsie were overwhelmed by congratulations from the other guests, difficult for many mamas with eligible daughters. They had all come in the hope that their darlings could attract the attentions of Mr. Spencer-Kimberly. Now, here was that Bowen girl, with her modest dowry, snapping up the finest prize to come into the neighborhood in years, and before anyone else even had a chance. It was really most unfair!
But the music began, and the duke and duchess led off the ball with a minuet, which would be the most sophisticated dance danced all evening. Mostly they would dance the merry and lively country dances. Cally had hired a dancing master to teach her, George, and Aurora so they would not seem backward; but for now she tripped brightly to the sprightly music of the minuet with her husband, and for a brief moment she was happy and content again.
Valerian glanced at her, and thought how lovely she was. If only her heart had not been so cold, he might have loved her. He saw George dancing with Betsy, and thought how happy they looked. He saw Aurora, in the gown that matched her lovely eyes, dancing with Justin St. John, a childhood friend and distant cousin. Even his grandmother was dancing with old General Tremayne, who was now master of the local hunt. It had been well over a year since his grandfather had died, and it was time she began to socialize again.
The evening wore on, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time despite the disappointment of George's unavailability. A buffet was served in the dining room, and the guests wandered in and out, the older folk settling themselves on the available chairs and settees, leaving the floor to the younger members of society.
Calandra was enormously popular with the gentlemen, and had danced every dance, as had Aurora, who was now dancing with the duke.
'You are the most beautiful girl in the room tonight,' he told her. 'How clever of you to choose a fabric for your gown that matches your lovely aquamarine blue eyes.'
'Thank you,' Aurora said softly, 'but I am not certain that you should be speaking to me this way. Besides, your wife is the most beautiful woman in the room, I think.'
'The most beautiful
Damn him, Aurora thought as a wave of dizziness swept over her and she stumbled in the dance. His arm tightened about her waist as he swung her around in the romp, a dance peculiar to the area. Regaining her balance, she glared at him. 'You are clever, Valerian. Be certain that you do not outmaneuver yourself with your quick wit.
Before he could reply, the music ceased, and Justin St. John was at their side. 'I believe the next dance is ours, Aurora,' he said with a rakish grin. He was a tall, lean man with chestnut-
